Stag Party

A lot has been going on since my last post.

We've had some beautiful weather with light winds, blue skies and hard frosts (for this time of year; -5). More importantly, the rut has finally come to my beat....with a vengeance!

It's a fantastic time to be 'oot the hill' when the corries and glens are reverberating with the roars of the stags. Strangely, the intensity (and the timing) of the rut seems to vary from year to year.

It's quite unusual to find a stag that has been killed while fighting. I haven't found any in the last two years. Yet three years ago there was a strong rut and I found 3 stags that had been gored to death. From what I'm seeing, I wouldn't be at all surprised to find one or two this year.

On the stalking side, things are a little frustrating. This estate is trying to establish a resident stag herd. To this end we have about 70 stags that stay all winter and are fed. This gives them a big advantage. And a big body. And a big set of antlers.

Unfortunately for me, a lot of these animals find their way onto my patch. And there they hold the hinds against all comers (as it were, ahem). This means that every time I take a guest out stalking I have to make my excuses as we pass these stags over.

So each 'feeder' becomes an obstacle that has to be circumvented in the quest to find a 'shootable' stag. Furthermore, they are also such stiff (ahem, again) competition that the wild stags take one look, get a serious dose of cold...er...hooves, and disappear off from whence they came.

Fortunately nearly all the guests we have are regulars or experienced stalkers. And- all credit to them- they understand our policies and agree with our selective culling. Which is just as well really, seeing as I've just blanked for the second day in a row. Ouch.

Splashdance

Today we had a visit from Hurricane Katia. Although she has now been downgraded to a 'tropical storm'. She didn't feel very tropical to me.

Despite the high winds and rain, we did manage to hold onto half decent visibility so we were driving grouse as per usual. Which meant we spent most of the day up at about 2000ft.

On the more exposed ground I can only describe the experience as like being at the receiving end of a powerwasher. Unlike most, my waterproofs passed this test with running colours. On the downside, they also seemingly doubled my surface area. This resulted in me dancing about the hill like I was auditioning for 'Strictly'.

It would take nothing short of a miracle for that to happen but, after today, maybe I'll start believing in them.

After all the guns did manage to hit 55 brace of these jetstream-propelled birds.

Remaining Changeable

I'm aware of how much I talk about the weather. I wouldn't be a true Scot if I didn't. But to all those of you out there who live in a predictable climate, you can't understand what a rollercoaster ride our weather can be.

Yesterday we were trying to drive grouse in light and variable winds. At times the wind dropped completely. At times like this the birds you put up just please themselves about which direction to head in. Tricky.

But that I can live with. The other problem of the wind dropping off is that the midges come out. And they came out in ravenous hordes in those lulls.

And then there was today. The clear, blustery conditions held just long enough to allow us all out onto the hill. Then it lashed with rain.

Driving grouse is hard enough work as is. When you're wrapped up in flogging waterproofs it's worse. And when the beaters have given up the very will to live it's near impossible to motivate them into keeping a decent beating line. Even if they were willing to listen to our 'guidance', making yourself heard over the wind and through their wooly hats and woolier heads is a challenge that Motorhead would baulk at.

We put in three drives and I have to say that I'm seriously impressed that the guns hit as much as they did- seeing as those birds must have been doing close on 100mph.

We came home with 62 bedraggled brace. But we DID come home.

NYAAARGHH !!!!

Have you heard the old chestnut:-

"What's the most important invention in human history?"

"The Venetian Blind- without which it would be curtains for us all."

Well, I'm afraid the midge net has now taken the crown. We were driving grouse today and although we were having a great day, the last two drives were blighted by midges. It was a warm, overcast day and the light breeze dropped at about 3pm. By 3.15 most of the entourage would have sold their granny for a midge net. I did have a spare in the rover but a) it was parked 500ft down the hill from us and b) what would I do with someone elses nan?

We finished the day with a bag of 198.5 brace. It would have been nice to have made the 200 and I dare say if we'd dallied longer we would have managed to pick them. But I reckon hamstringing would have been the only way you'd have persuaded me to dally.

By the way, the more observant of you might have noticed the pic of me with an exotic looking bird on my arm. Unfortunately it's a curlew.

I came across it on the last grouse drive on Friday. I could see it was a juvenile but I thought it was well enough grown that it should be flying. Luckily, I got to it just ahead of my dogs and as soon as I picked it up I could feel it was nothing but skin and bone.

Where I found it is very close to one of my hill tracks. I remember seeing a pair of curlews regularly in this area in the spring. I also remember thinking it was rather high up for curlew to be nesting, and on a rather dry ridge. I usually see them around the parks and boggy flushes near the floor of the glen.

Whatever the reason, I reckoned this bird was pretty close to death. I also reckoned that I was probably wasting my time to try and help it. But I thought I'd give it a go.

Three days on and I've dug a considerable patch of garden in my search for worms. I've also prowled the lawns at night scanning the damp grass with a torch. (It's another good way of collecting earthworms. Honest.) The curlew scoffs everything that's put in front of it.

I won't say it's out of the woods yet- seeing as it spends its time hiding in the Honeysuckle- but it's a good sign that it's feeding. All I have to do for the time being is- make sure it stays in the fruit garden; make sure the dogs stay out of the fruit garden; and dig about a pound of worms a day.

Simples.

Dish Out the Gruel

I just had to share this pic with you.

I had a lot of fun with the guests last week. It's about the only time of year I'm asked to ghillie on the river or loch and, I have to say, it makes a fine change.

It's also the last bit of light relief before we get stuck in with our shooting season proper.

We were driving grouse today. Despite variable winds, nearly being blotted out by mist, heavy rain and occassional onslaughts by midge hordes we still managed 169 brace for our day.

However we've also lost one beater to a badly twisted knee and we have another who might have to drop out for a day or two. He has that many blisters his feet they look like they've been bubble-wrapped.

And after a week of swanning up and down the riverbank, this all-day routemarching that is grouse beating feels just that little bit... er...GRUELLING!

A Real Sod

The grouse shooting season is fast approaching. Every year in preparation for this, we all 'do up' our grouse butts.

When the weather is fine and the butts are in good order, it's a pleasant and satisfying job. However......

However when the weather is as it has been, the ground is saturated. This quadruples the weight of the divots we cut (no wonder they are also called 'sods') and makes them as slick as a grilled politician.

In the photos you'll see some action shots and a 'before' and 'after' pic of a butt that was sore needing our attention. If you're wondering what the lads are pointing at, it's the hill from which we had to carry 5 posts, mell, pinch bar, wire, saw, hammer, nails, staples, spades, butterflies (wire tensioners) and adjustable wrench.

They're smiling 'cos we only have to carry half the stuff back again.

Flipping our Lids

After the hobnobbing and holidaying mentioned in the last blog, reality has hit home with a vengeance.

On my return to work it was an immediate priority to get flipping my lids. I am, of course, referring to the lids of my grit trays. This removes the medicated grit from the grouses' diet and has to be done at least one month prior to the grouse going for human consumption. There is natural grit in the compartment that is exposed. This keeps the birds in the habit of using the site. Allegedly.

It's a rather boring description of a rather boring job. I now have over 200 of these gritting sites and they are spread over some considerable area. (I sat in the rover for a full 10 minutes on Monday morning considering just that.)

And if that isn't bad enough, I know that number one priority as soon as the shooting is over will be flipping them back again. Flipping hell.

The photo shows a well-used tray. Those objects that look like a popular cheesy snack are, in fact, grouse droppings. Don't confuse the two.

When I see that, I feel my labours are worthwhile. Unfortunately there seem to be as many that act as litter trays for hares instead. Glad to be of service, guys!!

Driving grouse can drive you mad

So today we were back to the serious business of driving grouse.

This short season (0 to 5 weeks, depending on the results of our pre-season counts) is our 'harvest' and the main earner for the estate for the whole year. The people who come here to shoot pay BIG money and, accordingly have big expectations.

And thus we try to run the shoot days as smoothly and efficiently as possible. It takes a lot of doing when you have to choreograph for a troupe of about 50 people (beaters, keepers, loaders, pickers-up, guests and assorted 'hingers-oan'.)

And when you bring a drive in, to do it right you have to tailor the line to take account of the wind and the lie of the land. Or attempt to. We consider ourselves lucky this year to have so many 'switched on' lads in the beating line( some years we get nothing but 'neds') in fact we have a good many students.

For the most part, they are doing really well. However I tempted fate at lunchtime by saying that they were starting to look like a proper team of beaters. Thereafter things went all to hell.

There they were, the cream of British youth with brains the size of small planets and TOTALLY incapable of walking in a straight line, despite the...er....ardent encouragement of the 'keepers. Pass the Strepsils, will ya?

The icing on the cake was that the heavens opened on the final approach to the butts on the last drive of the day. Hey ho.....

All in all, we did have a reasonable day tho'. The final bag was 75 brace (150 birds) but, more importantly, the guests came off the hill with smiles on their faces.

Job done.